by Alex Ander
He thought for a moment. “If she had, she would have contacted someone by now.” He dug his fingers into his scalp and scratched the top of his head. “No, I think this is just one more piece of evidence that proves she was here. I’m sure the kidnappers still have her.”
Cruz stood at the end of the bed. Leaning forward, she put her hands on the footboard. “Okay, they still have her…but where?” She was thinking aloud. “It’s obvious the kidnappers were tipped off we were coming, or they suspected their location had been compromised. They moved her before O’Neill’s team got here.”
Hardy swung his head toward Charity. “Cherry, can you get anything on Faas Essam that O’Neill wouldn’t have access to?”
After informing the Hostage Rescue Team to stand down, Charity had grabbed her laptop before joining her teammates. She was sitting in a folding chair with the laptop resting on a second chair. “I’ve searched, but like Agent O’Neill said, there’s nothing here of value.”
“I might be able to help.” Dahlia stood and returned Cruz’s flashlight to her. “There’s something about that name. I know I’ve heard it before…I just can’t remember where. I’ll put in some calls to my contacts and see what turns up.”
Hardy checked his watch. “Okay, I’m overdue in reporting to Jameson.” He pointed at Dahlia. “You see what you can find out with your people.” He glanced at Charity. “Cherry, work the computer and do what you can do there.” He rotated his head back toward Cruz. “Cruz, you have the toughest job of anyone. I want you to shadow O’Neill and glean what you can. It’s a shot in the dark, but maybe he’s in possession of information that may prove useful, and he doesn’t know it.” Hardy checked his watch again and held up his index finger. “Let’s meet back at the SUV’s in one hour.”
…………………………
Hardy had found a secluded corner in a small diner nearby and called Director Jameson. He gave his boss an update, and Jameson got the President on the line. Hardy went over everything again. He was interrupted three times when the President was pulled away from the call by people needing to speak with him. A call that should have taken no more than thirty minutes lasted an hour and a half. Disconnecting the call, Hardy noticed the time. He was late getting back to his team.
Chapter 26: Nice Picture
8:31 a.m. (Mountain Time); east of where the borders of California, Nevada and Arizona meet
The King Air B200 twin-turboprop aircraft slowly rolled to a halt near a small hangar at the east end of a private airstrip. Shortly after the propellers stopped spinning, the airstairs of the plane opened and the pilot disembarked, followed by his passengers, a man and a woman. As the trio talked, a white cargo van approached the plane and stopped a short distance from them. Two large men got out of the van and walked toward them. As the men got to the base of the airstairs, the woman and the two men finished their conversation and the pilot headed for his office inside the hangar.
Ashar Yamadi spoke to the two large men in Arabic. “Be careful with the package and put it in the back of the van. Make sure it’s secure and cannot move around.” He faced his female companion. “Calista, wait for me in the van.” He motioned toward the hanger. “I’m going to settle up with the pilot. I want to be gone as soon as possible.”
Calista nodded her head and made her way toward the van. She cranked her head around, when she heard the two men exiting the plane, carrying a large Pelican Roto Molded Single Lid Flat Case. The exterior dimensions were more than four-feet by two-feet by three-feet. The men struggled to get the case out of the aircraft and down the stairs. Once the case was on the tarmac, they rolled it to the back doors of the van.
Yamadi entered the hangar and scanned the entire area. He could see no other people. He found the pilot’s office and saw the man sitting at his desk, staring at a computer screen. After taking one more look around the area, he crossed the threshold of the man’s office and closed the door. He stood in front of the pilot’s desk and placed a briefcase on a small stack of papers. His eyes were drawn to a picture frame on the desk. He picked it up. “Nice picture. Is this your family?”
The pilot diverted his gaze from the computer screen. “Yeah, that’s my wife and two daughters.” He was a small man in his late thirties with prematurely graying and thinning hair. He had one hand on the computer mouse, while the other hand stroked his chin.
Yamadi smiled. “Identical twins, I see.”
“We got married right out of high school and they were born a year later. This is their first year in college. I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving. They’re coming home for Christmas. In fact,” he craned his head to glimpse a clock on the wall behind Yamadi, “they should be waiting for me when I get home tonight.” He spied the briefcase. “Is that the rest of it?”
“Uh-huh,” replied Yamadi, setting the frame on the desk and pushing the latches of the briefcase outward. The motion produced a popping sound.
“That sure is going to help pay the tuition.” He went back to analyzing the computer screen.
“Now, you’re absolutely sure our flight was off the radar.”
The pilot shifted his gaze toward Yamadi. “I’m positive.”
“I’m paying you a lot of money, so I can go undetected, and I’d hate not to get my money’s worth.” Yamadi lifted the lid of the briefcase and fumbled around with the contents.
“Trust me,” said the pilot, glancing at the briefcase, trying to see around the vertical lid. “This isn’t the first time rich guys like you have wanted to get from one place to another without anyone knowing about it. The only other person who knows you were even here is me.” He stood and gestured toward the briefcase. “Now, give me what I’ve got coming to me.”
Yamadi finished rummaging through the briefcase and locked eyes with the man. The right side of his lips curled upward. “Very appropriate choice of words, Mr. Alders.” Yamadi raised a small nine-millimeter pistol above the lid of the briefcase. The weapon had a sound suppressor attached to the muzzle.
“What the hell is this?” The pilot put his hands in front of his chest and took a step backward.
“The conclusion of our business deal,” said Yamadi, pressing the trigger of the weapon four times. Four muffled shots filled the small office. The pilot grabbed his chest and fell backward into a metal filing cabinet before sliding down the cabinet and landing on his right side. Yamadi strolled around the desk and pointed the pistol at the man’s nose.
The pilot’s chest heaved, while he gasped for oxygen. “Please, mister…I’ve got a wife…and—”
Yamadi squeezed off one final shot before finishing the man’s sentence. “Two daughters…Yes, I know. I saw the picture.” Taking the partially spent magazine out of his pistol, he stowed it in his jacket pocket. Inserting a full magazine into his gun, he shot the computer’s hard drive multiple times. Sparks flew and smoke slipped past the cracks in the computer tower.
Yamadi returned to his briefcase, removed the sound suppressor from the pistol, put both items in the case and closed the lid. Securing the latches of the case, he slipped his fingers into the handle, picked up the case and left the office. Taking one last look around, he ambled out of the hangar and headed toward the cargo van.
Chapter 27: Coffee and Fries?
12:28 p.m. (Mountain Time)
Dahlia was the first person to see Hardy. “It’s about time.” She watched him climb into the SUV, sitting behind the steering wheel. “Did you get lost? We were getting ready to send the Hostage Rescue Team out to find you.” Eyeing the two large white paper bags in his hands, she leaned forward from her right-rear seat in the vehicle. “What have you got there?” She took a deep breath. “Do I smell coffee,” she breathed again, “and fries?” She stuck her hands between the front seats. “Come on, let’s have it.”
Hardy opened one bag and removed four cups of coffee, four burgers and three side dishes; French fries, onion rings and mozzarella sticks. Each of the women took a cup, a burger and a si
de dish. Cruz claimed an extra coffee and burger for Hardy, who picked up the unopened bag and left the SUV. He went to the second SUV and handed the bag to the team leader of the Hostage Rescue Team. Grateful, the men thanked Hardy before jockeying for their share of the food and coffee.
Hardy got back inside his SUV. Cruz handed him his cup of coffee. He peeled back the tiny flap on the lid and took a couple sips. “I hope this keeps me in good graces with all of you. The President wanted in on the phone call with Jameson and,” Hardy closed his eyes and shook his head, “never mind…Any good news?” Undoing the paper wrapper surrounding his burger, he took a big bite. His stomach was operating on Eastern Time, telling him it was mid-afternoon. In between bites, he reached for different side dishes.
“I struck out.” Charity gave everyone a summary of what she had done in the last hour and a half. When she had finished, Cruz took her turn.
“I was able to get some more information from Agent O’Neill.” Cruz jerked her thumb toward the back seat. “Charity went over everything, but nothing new came of it.” Before chomping on her burger, she addressed Dahlia. “Dahlia, you’re up.”
Dahlia was starving. She had eaten very little of her food when she, Hardy and Cruz were in New York. That was eight hours ago. Dahlia stuck her finger in the air before pointing at her burger. She was determined to finish her food before she said anything. A few minutes more was not going to make much of a difference.
Five minutes later, she crumpled the paper wrapper into a ball and tossed it into Hardy’s lap before taking a sip of coffee. “Oops, I was aiming for the empty bag.”
Hardy shook his head, plucked the paper ball from his lap and tossed it into the bag. “Okay, Dahlia, you’ve had your food and your fun. Tell us what you found out.”
She took another sip and put her cup in the cup holder. Without any preamble, she got right to the point. “I found a connection between Essam and Yamadi.”
Hardy had taken another large bite of food. He stopped chewing and looked at Cruz, who had stuck a couple fries into her mouth. She took them out and dropped them into the paper bag. She and Hardy twisted in their seats to face Dahlia. She had their full attention.
Dahlia pointed at Hardy’s puffy cheeks. “You should swallow that. It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full.” She reached for her cup. “Faas Essam owns multiple shops in cities all across the Western United States. They are all antique shops, featuring Egyptian artifacts, relics and knockoff products.” She took a sip of coffee and put the cup back in the cup holder. “All of them, except for the one in Denver, are registered under a different name—Cadan Halim.”
Hardy swallowed and cocked his head. “Who is Cadan Halim?”
“Cadan Halim is Faas Essam. They are one in the same man. Halim slash Essam is wanted by the Mafia on the West Coast. He’s taken a big chunk out of their illegal smuggling operations, and they are willing to pay big for his head.”
“How do you know the two are the same?”
“One of my contacts made the connection, and I was able to confirm it with two others high up in the organized crime chain of command. Trust me. Essam is Halim.”
“Assuming you’re right…”
“I am.”
Hardy nodded. “Assuming you’re right, what’s the connection to Yamadi and how do we find Halim?”
“Halim specializes in smuggling…” Dahlia paused, “well…everything that needs to be smuggled.”
“We got that, Dahlia.” He rolled his hand. “What’s the connection?” He wanted her to get to the point.
“All right, stay with me on this. It’s just a theory, but it fits.” Gesturing with her hands as she spoke, she made her case. “Why would Yamadi want to kidnap the President’s daughter? One, he could kill her. No, he would have done that already, if that were his intent. Two, he could use her for a trade, releasing one of his men from custody.”
Hardy interjected. “Did you forget about the note, demanding the release of Anderson Cole in exchange for Abby’s life?”
Dahlia shook her head. “That doesn’t add up. Cole is a nothing when it comes to terrorists. Yes, he made headlines when he killed all those people in Minnesota. Up until then, however, he was a zero...nobody. I don’t think Yamadi wants Cole.” Dahlia put her hands on the front seat headrest, pulled herself closer and turned her body to the left to include Charity in the conversation. “I think this whole thing with Cole was a diversion. Cole wasn’t supposed to talk. He was in U.S. custody, lawyered up and not saying anything. Yamadi was betting on a combination of our politicians not wanting to make hard choices, and our lawyers abiding by our judicial system to buy him the time to carry out his real plan. He never anticipated you transferring Cole to another country, interrogating him and getting Yamadi’s name.”
“So, what’s his real plan?”
Cruz answered his question. “Yamadi wanted us, and the whole U.S. Government, focused on Anderson Cole and his possible role in the kidnapping, while Yamadi used his underground contacts to smuggle Abby out of the country.”
“Exactly,” said Dahlia, leaning back in her seat.
“Think about it, Hardy.” Cruz fixed her eyes on him. “Is there a better ace in the hole than a sitting President’s daughter? Yamadi could play that card multiple times, getting whatever he wanted from the United States. James Conklin may be the President, but he’s also a father. No father would be able to resist demands to keep his daughter safe.”
Hardy was mulling over everything the two women had been telling him. It made perfect sense. Frankly, it scared the hell out of him. If Yamadi succeeded in getting Abby to another country, the United States would have lost control. Right now, the situation had been contained within the country’s borders. All the federal agencies and state and local police could be deployed, along with the nation’s intelligence services, to search for Abigail. Once she was outside the country, however, that control would be greatly diminished, and the situation would go global. Abby could be smuggled into any country and never kept in one place for too long, keeping intelligence services always guessing. “We cannot allow Abby to leave American soil. How do we find Essam,” Hardy corrected himself, “Halim?”
Dahlia spun her head toward Charity. “That’s where Charity, and her facial recognition software, comes into play.”
Charity cocked her head and stared at Dahlia. “We don’t have a picture of Halim. I’ve already checked for everything on Essam, and there’s no picture of him. If you say the two are one in the same…” She let her voice trail off and held out her hands. “We still don’t have a picture to plug into my software.”
Dahlia grinned, held up her phone and twisted her wrist. “We do now.”
Chapter 28: Dots
Once Halim’s image had been uploaded from Dahlia’s phone into Charity’s facial recognition software, the two women switched to the task of plotting the known locations of Halim’s antique shops, scattered across the Western United States. Charity had downloaded to her laptop the flash drive Dahlia had given to Hardy. Without it, the mission would have rested on Dahlia’s memory. She would have had to recall the city for every antique shop Halim owned.
While Charity and Dahlia continued their work, Hardy and Special Agent Cruz checked and re-checked the gear stowed in three duffle bags in the back of the SUV. When Hardy had asked Jameson for the Hostage Rescue Team, he put in a request for weapons, tactical equipment and clothing for three operatives, too. Hardy was relieved when Jameson did not inquire about the third duffle bag, since he had not told his boss that Dahlia had joined them in Denver. Hardy was delaying the release of that piece of news for as long as possible. The original plan called for getting as much information from her as possible and moving on with the operation. She was not supposed to be involved in the mission beyond the intelligence-gathering phase. Jameson had pulled aside Hardy after the OR briefing and emphasized that fact. Hardy drove from his mind the thought of the upcoming meeting with Jameson. I’ll deal
with him when this is all over and Abby is safe.
With nothing left to do, but wait for Charity to find something, Hardy placed a call to Director Burroughs. When he had discovered, from Agent O’Neill, that it was Secretary Gillespie who had initiated the assault, Hardy knew he owed Burroughs an apology for his behavior on the phone. Since there was some down time, he figured now was the perfect opportunity to pay the debt. To her credit, Burroughs was very professional. She accepted his apology and moved on without making an incident of the situation.
…………………………
An hour later, Charity’s search for Halim resulted in several hits. Getting everyone back in the SUV, she placed her laptop between her and Dahlia, facing Hardy and Cruz in the front seat. She brought up a map of the Southwestern United States, specifically, the states of California, Nevada, Utah and Arizona. Several dots were scattered around the area where California, Nevada and Arizona came together; a few outlying dots were to the northwest and southeast.
Charity pointed at the screen. “These are the locations where Halim has been spotted.”
Hardy interrupted her. “What’re the dates on these sightings?”
“They go as far back as two weeks ago.”
Hardy nodded.
“The red dots have a less than fifty percent match potential. The yellow dots are between fifty-one and seventy-five percent. Green dots have a greater than seventy-five percent chance.”
Hardy sliced his fingertips across his throat a couple times. “Let’s lose the red dots, Cherry.”
“I figured you’d say that.” She hit a key and the red dots disappeared. “Most of the remaining dots are centered to the east of Los Angeles.”
Cruz shifted in her seat to get a better view of the screen. “Cherry, what are the white ones?”
Charity flicked her eyes toward Dahlia. “Dahlia helped me locate Halim’s antique shops. I plotted them on the map.”
